Peeping Tom
by Falsetta-Arias
Summary: Surely someone before him had pointed out! Surely no stat boosts were worth the disgrace! Then why? A stark blemish on Emil's perfectly blank slate, yet Emil still had it equipped for...Tenebrae lost track of how long. Now Tenebrae came up with a theory..


A/N- Please enjoy and do not forget to review! I live on reviews~ Nom nom nom...Yum~

This was inspired by a skit that you'll get if you don't change Emil's initial title "timid boy" for 4 chapters. At least, I think the skit exists...no one actually confirmed it...

And please excuse my strange sense of humor. You may find it funny, or you may find it just plain odd.

+1. Peeping Tom+

Requirements: After keeping Emil's title "Peeping Tom" for a very long time.

* * *

"Emil?"

"Yes, Tenebrae?"

"Is there...something you're not telling me?"

"Like what, Tenebrae?"

The Centurion of darkness coughed once, curled his tail around his behind, shifted his weight to abate the feeling of dread which followed this potential quagmire he initiated, and coughed again.

"Tenebrae?"

Emil was certainly not prepared for the languid look that suddenly waned all colors from the Centurion's face. Was it even possible for him to look...pale?

Tenebrae was wondering almost the same thing. Wasn't he always the ebullient talker? Why was his mind suddenly so vacuous?

Tenebrae cleared his throat, and once more again.

"Yesterday, when Lady Marta was washing up in the nearby pound, where were you?"

Emil blinked, "I went to gather firewood."

Tenebrae persisted, "What about last week, when we stopped by the local hot spring once more, why did you decide to leave the lodge when all the other guys were waiting for the ladies to finish?"

"I went for a walk because the lodge was too stuffy. Geez, Tenebrae, what's with these questions?"

Tenebrae shifted uncomfortably. This just wasn't his domain.

Tenebrae was always the spiteful jokester, the bad pun-maker, everyone's favorite raconteur around a late night campfire, but this new role had Tenebrae backed up into a tight niche; he could not even seek solace in the comforting blanket of darkness.

Tenebrae shifted his weight again and casted a blank look into the roaring campfire. The campfire glared back; Tenebrae cleared his throat once again.

Perhaps he should seek the assistance of Regal, for he was a more fatherly figure. After all, it was also Regal's responsibility as a member of the Old Fogey Club to educate the young to be winsome and upstanding moral members of the comm--

"Tenebrae! Stop ignoring me!"

"My apologies, Emil."

"So what's going on with you?" Emil questioned laconically.

"Er... Emil. Would you happen to have...maybe...a hobby that might not be...er...how would you phrase it...uh...presentable due to... ah... social restrictions?"

"Huh? An indecent hobby due to—What? I don't understand you. If you mean something other guys wouldn't normally do, then you already know about my food-carving—"

"No, that is not it. What I mean...I think you know."

"But I do not! Tenebrae! Explain yourself!"

Tenebrae attempted another circumlocution, "Do you happen to have...magazines...maybe, or certain pictures...hidden in your sleeping bag...or what not?"

"What? I don't have a sleeping bag! I don't even carry around a bag!"

"My apologies, again. It seems that was the wrong thing to hint."

"Then tell me exactly what you're thinking!"

The Centurion of Darkness sighed. A total debacle; he decided to balk from further attempts.

"Never mind, Emil. It's nothing"

Emil rose from his seat and grabbed his sword nearby, "Sheesh. You sure are acting weird today. I'm going to look for more firewood, you stay and—"

"NO!"

"What?"

"Stay! I command you!"

"What the heck is going on, Tenebrae!?"

Tenebrae coughed, "You do not need to waste effort to do it yourself, do you not have many monster friends? Surely one of them may do your biddings."

"Yeah, I guess. But I like to—"

"Well at least wait till Lady Marta returns from her bath. I'll get lonely, please do not leave me alone."

"Tenebrae?"

Emil was worried. Is Tenebrae sick? Is it even possible for Centurions to catch a cold? He wanted to place a hand on Tenebrae's forehead, but Tenebrae already melted into the darkness. The night air stiffened, perhaps due to the brooding mood of its ruling Centurion.

"Okay then. I guess I'll just wait around for Marta" Emil announced to no one in particular. Only the wind answered him.

Tenebrae was in the nearby trees, watching the boy near the campfire He sighed dismally; his failed mission glaring within his view. It seemingly mocked him; a malediction due to his failure. And there, branded on Emil, a title that did not remove itself since the day Emil acquired it on that faithful day oh so many months ago, a title that permanently debased the hallowed image of Emil: the pure and innocent boy. He wondered why; surely no stat boosts was worth the disgrace, surely someone before him must had pointed out. Yet, Emil still kept it on, which led to one conclusion: he must be secretly proud of it.

Which led to the discussion a couple of minutes ago.

Which led to his current sulking in the trees.

Which led to the decision that under no circumstances would Tenebrae allow Emil to trail away from his sight again.

* * *

A/N- You do not know how many times I accedently typed "Tenebra." Eh-hem, a juvenile joke...shoot me if you must...

Please do not forget to review~


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